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Episode Nine of Infinite Realities by Ken David Stewart

Episode Nine of Infinite Realities:
“Come join us,” a freak said. He appeared to be about fifty. He had long grey streaked hair tied back in a ponytail. His beard was salt and pepper. He blew out a smoke ring from his Sweet Caporal cigarette. He wore a black tank top that displayed his protruding pot belly. This guy must weigh close to three hundred pounds. “Can I offer you guys a cigarette?”
Rick Chandler thought that if this guy was living in 2015 he wouldn’t be offering people free cigarettes. Certainly not at today’s outrageous prices. But this was 1969 and a pack of cigarettes sold for only sixty-five cents.
A space was made in the circle where Rick and Athena could sit down on the freshly cut grass.
“Greetings my friends. My name is Hog. You guys must be wondering what an old bugger like me is doing in Memorial Park hanging out with a bunch of young people?”
“Thank you for the warm welcome. My name is Rick and my friend is Athena. I was kind of wondering about that to tell you the truth.”
Hog let out a loud belly laugh. “I thought so. Most people do think it’s odd that I don’t mix with my own demographic. The fact is that I find most people my age to be kind of boring. I’m a history professor at The University of Manitoba so I get to meet young people every day. This generation is so much more interesting than mine. All my peers talk about is new renovations that they’re having done to their immaculate houses in the suburbs. Sometimes they’ll get real daring and will talk about the cottages they own or the next dream car they want to buy. They are all in debt up to their eyebrows but they have lots of stuff. Frankly, they all bore me to tears. Now, this group of young people here they’ve always got some interesting topics to talk about.”
“Thanks Hog,” said an attractive girl wearing a tie dyed tee shirt. Athena noticed that part of her pinky finger had been amputated. She was looking at a copy of Rolling Stone magazine. Rick looked at it enviously. This was 1969 when Rolling Stone looked like an underground, anti-establishment newspaper. Rick had long given up on the corporate piece of trash that the magazine had morphed into in 2015.
“Hi guys. My name is Tinkerbell. Did you hear about what happened in Altamont in December?”